His Scar
by Star Braginski
Summary: I love Alfred F. Jones with all of my heart. I've known him ever since I can remember. But he's a nation and I'm a human- I'd trust him with my life and I thought, in retrospect, that he felt the same. I guess he never did, because it all ended the day I found that scar...


We've been together for as long as I can remember. He's always been there, never-changing. No. It's more like _unable_ to change. I guess there was a time before I was born that he was all that he could be. piercing blue eyes sometimes hidden under those shaggy blonde bangs of his watched over me. Through out my school years, he helped me learn. He guided me, my dear Alfred. I loved him and he loved me, though the type of love we felt was always changing. For most of my years, he took the role of my father. Tucking me into bed at night and making sure I stayed safe. He cared about me. I played the part of his daughter; doing chores and doing my best to make sure he was happy. Those years were the best. They were shrouded in ignorance.

It wasn't until I was 19, just a few years younger than his eternal form of 22, that I noticed the way I felt around him change. It became harder to tell him how I felt because it was about him. The way that my heart beat quickened when he hugged me or how I never failed to blush when he kissed my forehead goodnight. I started to feel so aware around him. He must have felt the same because he'd also blush. Or he'd fall silent of words and just stare at me. He couldn't have noticed how I went out of my way to make sure life was easier on him, could he? I'd been doing it for years. Maybe it was just because I was getting close to his age that everything had a deeper meaning. I wasn't sure how I felt.

The first time I caught him crying changed my life forever. It was a late July night, hot and humid. I'd just come home from a party, one I probably shouldn't have been at, around three in the morning. I thought Alfred would've been asleep by then, so I did my best to be quiet. My room, in our small apartment, was on the other side of his. I was caught off guard when I passed his door. Instead of his usual snoring, I heard a soft sniffling. I stopped and pressed my ear against the door, confused. What was going on in there? I heard the floor creek beneath my feet and betray my presence.

"Hello? Ami? You home?" His voice floated out of the room, already a lot steadier than I'd first heard it.

"Yeah..."

He waited a bit before replying, probably weighing his options. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough..." I said, easing the door open. My soft grey eyes peered across the easy white room and over to him. Alfred sat on his red bed, feet planted on the wooden floor. The light was off and the window was up, letting the glow of the moon shine in. His shaggy blonde hair was its usual mess, I could tell that much, and he was in the clothes he was wearing yesterday. Blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He didn't turn to look at me, just staring down at the floor. His hands were settled in his lap and his shoulders were stooped in defeat. I silently went over and sat beside him, adopting the same pose. We sat there, neither saying anything, for a while.

"I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair. I'd noticed that his usual sharp blue eyes were clouded and red, probably from crying.

"Whatever for, stupid man." I grumbled half-heartedly, unsure what was going on. A sense of failure washed through me. I hadn't done enough to keep him happy.

"Just, I am. For everything I've done. Everything I've let my bosses do." He dropped his hand back into his lap. "For everything I haven't done and probably never will..."

I leaned against him, ever so slightly. It was just enough so that our shoulders touched. "Don't fret about the past, Alfie. You can't go back and change it. There's no use in feeling guilty. It was a different time, I'm sure." I'd learned enough about American history to know he'd done some awful things in his years.

"I know..." He let out a long, soft sigh and laid back on the bed. His gaze filtered out the window and up to the moon. I watched him, curious to what had him so down. I thought about the date. _July 5th_. Maybe he was thinking about Independence Day? But wouldn't that be happy for him? I laid down next to him and cuddled into his side. His arm lazily drapped around my waist. I could feel a faint blush work its way on my face despite the somber mood.

"Do you miss him?" My voice was faint. I was afraid that it would quiver. It wasn't the first time he'd held my waist, but it never felt like this. I curled in closer and put my head on his shoulder.

"Sometimes." The admission in his tone told me all I needed to know. I felt him kiss the top of my head and I looked up at him. Our gaze met and, for some weird reason, I squirmed up those last few inches needed and kissed him. My pulse was hammering in my chest to the point I could barely hear and my face felt hot. It was a relief to feel him kiss back a moment later. His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me closer to him. I was almost on top of Alfred at this point.

I had to pull back for air. We just stared at each other, uncertain what this ment for us. Instead of asking questions, he shifted us so we were both fully on the bed. His head was on a pillow, with mine tucked protectively on his chest, and our bodies molded against each other. Silently, he reached down and pulled the covers up and over us. Not once did I even consider leaving him. Everything was slow and awkward, yet obvious and known at the same time. It felt like it was just a matter of time before this had happened. It must have been ment to be. I was too aware of the sun tanned skin so warm against mine under the sheets, I just couldn't fall asleep. It wasn't until he was snoring, our legs tangled together and his arms instinctively pulling me against him, that I was able to relax enough to join him. We slept in together until late that afternoon. Our love was starting to bloom.

Four years later...

I loved the man so much, but there was one thing that never failed to slip my mind. He always had a shirt on. I could never catch him in the shower, he'd wear a shirt to go swimming, and his chest was always covered when we'd have sex. He wouldn't let me touch the bare skin there. At first, I chalked it up to him being shy. I never pushed it because he'd throw a bit of a fit about it. My Alfred tended to be sensitive about certain matters. I always did my best not to pester him about such things, but this was really weird.

I'd grown fed up, one December night, before a session of love-making. I was stripped down to just my black bra and panties. He was just in his boxers and that damn tank top. He was kissing along my neck, encouraged by my hands gripping at his back. I knew it was a bold move, but I slid my fingers down to the base of his shirt and started edging it up in the back. Before I could yelp in protest, he'd brushed my hands away from the fabric and removed his lips from my skin.

"Really, Ami?" Sky blue eyes stared into my grey ones, filled with a curious hurt.

"Why the hell not?" I asked, tired of him avoiding this. "You've seen all of me. I have no secrets from you. You say you love me, but don't trust me enough to see your chest and back?" My arms crossed when I saw his jaw tense in stubbornness. "What could be so bad that would make me leave you now, after I've been with you my whole life?"

He sucked in a long, tired breath. No. Not tired. Exasperated. "It's just..." I kept my eyes locked on him as he struggled to say what he wanted. Alfred lowered his gaze to the floor and I sighed.

"You know I love you and would never turn you away..." I leaned into him, taking a hold of his chin to force him to look at me. My other hand rested on his thigh. "At least, not when I'm happy." I attempted a light joke, trying to cheer him up.

He smiled weakly back at me. He'd always been a sucker for cheep humor. "I'm sorry..." The blond offered a shrug, but didn't pull away. It was then that I got an idea. I spotted the tie he was wearing for work earlier, laying on the bed not too far off behind him. I got closer, pressing my chest against his, and slid that hand on his face down his shoulder. My fingertips brushed along his arm and down on the bed. It was always the little things that made him blush, so it didn't surprise me to see his face tint a light red. Keeping my eyes locked with his in this silent moment, I gently prodded around behind him for the tie.

I didn't expect him to kiss me, just as I'd found it, too. I pulled the bit of fabric closer and moved my hand from his thigh and twined its fingers with those from one of his hands. No, he wouldn't expect a thing. I moved his hand behind him and noticed him raising an eyebrow, though not rejecting the movement. I let go of the tie long enough to grab his other hand and do the same. I trailed kisses from his lips down his jaw line and to his neck. I sprung quickly. I twisted the tie around his wrists behind his back and knotted it. He let out a soft gasp of surprise and started pulling away, but it was too late. His hands were bound behind his back. I moved my hands on his shoulders and pushed him down so he was laying back on the bed.

I noticed fear reflected in his blue eyes when I crawled over him and sat on his lap, sputtering for something to say. His face had bloomed bright red. "N-no. Don't." He could see my intent reflected in my eyes and pleaded for me not to. He squirmed, trying to get away, but I wouldn't let him.

"I'm sorry, love, but I gotta know." I said, putting my hands on the base of his shirt and quickly pulling it up. He closed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as if bracing himself. Scarred, tan skin over lean muscles met my eyes. I wasn't surprised by this. What caught me off guard was the large, dark scar that curled, jagged, across his chest and up around his shoulders. It seemed to go around his back, as if someone had tried to slice through him. All of a sudden, I felt so guilty, so horrible, for doing this. My curiosity got the better of me. My eyes softened and I gingerly traced the scar. I couldn't find my voice, nor could I look away from it. He must have been in so much pain from that. Tears pricked at my eyes and fell down on his exposed skin.

There was silence for a few, long moments before he opened his eyes into slits. Upon seeing my pained expression, he seemed to loosen up a bit yet was still uneasy. "Ami?" His tentative voice could be barely heard. He didn't know what to say. Finally, I forced my eyes to meet his. He took in a long breath and let it out in a sigh. "Untie me." The command was so simple and, since I didn't know what else to do, I obeyed. I reached behind him, under his back, and gently pulled the tie off of him. Once free, he pulled down his shirt and curled up into himself a bit.

"Why?" I blinked the tears from my eyes, but they kept coming back. "Y-you never told me about that. Why?" He trained his blue gaze on the floor.

"Because you didn't need to know."

"Wrong. I did."

"It was before you." His voice was too cool, too distant, for my liking. I wanted answers, because, deep down, I was hurt.

"Most of your past is 'before' me. Doesn't change anything." I growled, regaining my edge. I was a typical spitfire and when I got mad, I could become vicious. "Did **HE** do that to you?" I didn't expect his reaction. He finally looked at me and there was a spark in his eye.

Grabbing my shoulders, he pinned me on the bed. That handsome figure I'd come to love loomed over me. If it had been anybody else, I would've been afraid. Not if it was Alfred, though. He was kind, even when he was mean. "DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO PIN THAT ON ARTHUR!" I could accept this anger from him. He was only defending the man who raised him, who he loved. The look of grief and anger mixed on his face made me clam up. Again, I felt horrible. I was crossing too many lines in one night. His grip on my shoulders tightened to the point it hurt.

"Ow! Alfred! You're hurting me! Get off!" I thrashed under him until he finally let go and just sat on his bed beside me. I fell still and just watched him for a while. He was staring at the wall with his jaw clenched. That whole time, I finally understood something I hadn't ever noticed. That beautiful man who I loved, who had been with me my whole life, wasn't mine. He would never fully belong to me and me alone. He had another in his heart, someone he held even dearer than I did. The pain of this realization washed through me. It wasn't until it had settled in my heart that I spoke again. "Weren't we supposed to tell each other everything?"

"Not everything." He muttered.

"_I_ told _you_ everything."

"I know."

"And you still felt like you couldn't return the favor?" I scowled.

He mulled this over for a moment and sighed. "It was after I gained independence."

At first, I was too made to retort. But slowly, the words sunk in. He hadn't gotten that from either of the world wars, nor from Vietnam or Korea. It was older, even than that. Older than his fights with Spain. I sucking in a breath and eased my scowl. "Civil War. But why?"

"My people wanted two nations," he said, staring at the floor, "and I tried to give them that. It didn't work, obviously. The infighting, brothers killing brothers and sons killing fathers, it was too much. Blood everywhere. The cries of the dying and their mourning families. The endless booming of guns and cannons. I would've done anything to make it stop." Alfred ran a hand through his messy blond hair. I could tell he was having a hard time talking about this. "He offered help, but to the South. The North was furious. I couldn't take any offers. It was within my boarders and my boarders alone. All they could do was offer words of sympathy."

"I'm sorry, but I don't quite get-"

He cut me off. "I don't expect yo to. You've had a nice, calm, easy life. I've made sure of that."

I bowed my head slightly, knowing he was right. "It's because I'm human, isn't it I'll never understand how it feels to be torn apart because other humans can't agree on something, at least not internally damaged."

"Ami, don't-"

I cut him off. "I'd never understand. I'm only a stupid human whose time on this earth is definite. I have no clue what it feels like to have over a million voices speaking for me. Yeah-" I saw him flinch slightly out of the corner of my eye. "You're not mine, are you?" At least, not fully. We've been together for longer than I can remember, yet you still don't trust me. I get it."

His head bobbed slowly, a silent answer to my question. His blue eyes flicked back to me and my disheveled appearance. There was pain there, as if he'd come to the same conclusion as me. He reached out to me and I flinched, though he only stroked my cheek gently. "I'm sorry."

More tears fell from my eyes. "Whatever for, stupid man?" I smiled sadly at him. He returned the smile and got up.

"Just, I am. For everything I've done. Everything I'm going to do. Everything I haven't done. Everything I won't do." He walked past me, beyond the bed and quietly over the wooden floor. It was so cold without him here beside me. I didn't like it, but made no move to stop it. I was still sitting on the bed, stripped to my underclothes, when I heard him pause long enough to put pants on. "Most of all, I'm sorry that my heart's somewhere else. It always has been. I'm sorry I let this drag on for so long..." He was almost out of the room when I finally managed a whisper.

"I'm sorry too." True, this wasn't the first time we'd fought nor was it the roughest. But unsaid feelings hung in the air and were finally spoken. I don't think he even looked back when he left, leaving me to curl up into the bed that we once shared while he put shoes on, grabbed his coat, and left. He wouldn't be back, though his friends would come by and collect sections of his stuff. My heart told me he was just too torn up about everything to see my face. My brain nagged me, saying he was too afraid to come back. I'd probably deck him in the face, so that's reasonable. I never really did see him again...

Even to this day, I wonder if he takes a moment and thinks about me. I know he's still on my mind. He always will be...


End file.
